CHAPTER SEVEN
ROYCE
Tonight, I play with a completely new energy surging through me. For the first time, I truly get what happened to Derek on the Life from the Ashes album and then Blaise on the last two we released. It's an inexplicable change, completely out of one’s control, and the frightening and undeniable fact is it could affect me just as negatively if the fates see fit to shift course at any point.
As of yet, they’re giving no indication of the sort, however. On the contrary, after finishing the show, I make a temporary appearance at the after party before slinking off with Hudson.
He takes me back to his mother’s shop where we sit and talk and laugh for hours. This time I make the coffee, just in case he's still under the impression that my interest in him is in any way related to his barista skills.
“This is pretty good, by the way.” He smiles and takes another sip.
For some stupid reason I feel my face getting red. One minor compliment about my coffee making skills and I'm reacting like a twelve-year-old facing a first kiss during an awkward game of spin the bottle. “Yeah, well, you spend enough mornings with Ava, and you learn to brew a pretty solid pot.”
He nods knowingly. “I take it she doesn’t have a very sunny disposition in the a.m.? ”
I shake my head and swallow in a hurry. “Oh, no. She’s her usual perky-but-snotty self. It’s more like she has a spaz disposition. Wait ‘til you see her in action for yourself. Walks around like she’s got fucking blindfolds on, bumping into things and knocking shit over. Mostly we just try to make sure she has a reasonably clear path to the coffee maker. Since walking a straight line is definitely not within her pre-caffeine capabilities.”
Hudson chuckles softly. He has a mild, gentle way about him. A quiet strength that makes me want to be near him almost as badly as that sexy as hell smile of his does. Only for a completely different reason.
“So, tell me. What do you like to do when you actually have the night off to yourself?” He taps the rim of his mug with his finger.
That's a damn good question. “Honestly? I don’t really do all that much. Playing music has always been my favorite past time, and even now that it’s my job so to speak, I’m still perfectly content sitting at home alone, messing around with my bass or goofing around on whatever other instrument I have lying about that catches my eye.” I shrug. “Sounds kind of sad and boring when I hear it out loud.”
“Not at all. Sounds like you’ve learned how to be comfortable with your own company. Enjoy it even. Not everyone knows how to do that, you know? And I think that’s kind of sad actually.” He takes another drink of his coffee, but his eyes remain fixed on mine the entire time. Usually, I can only take so much of that.
Constant eye contact bugs me from most people. But not him. Not Hudson. Probably because I'm so mesmerized by those dark brown almond shaped eyes of his, I have very little desire to look at much else myself.
“What about you? What do you like to do when you’re not here running the store or taking phenomenal pictures?”
He laughs. “I’m totally going to sound like I’m copying your answer, but seriously, I don’t do anything all that exciting either. I’m addicted to the view through a lens. I don’t even care what I’m looking at. It could seem like the most mundane thing, but when I’m behind the camera, everything is different. I see things. Notice details, flaws, beauty – amazing, breathtaking beauty – I’d never see otherwise.”
His entire face lights up as he speaks, and I understand exactly what he means, how it makes him feel. Music has always done the exact same thing for me.
“You know, that’s pretty rare too. Feeling so passionate about something. Being able to pinpoint exactly what brings you joy in life. I mean, I used to think it wasn’t. I’ve been playing with the guys since I was sixteen, and we all live for it. Music, I mean. We’re obsessed. Perfectionists in a lot of ways, and we work really fucking hard, always pushing ourselves to be better, to grow as artists, but we love it. There isn’t a day that I wake up and think, ‘shit, I really don’t want to play today’.” I stop for a moment trying to recollect my thoughts. I was going somewhere with this. “Fuck. I got derailed there. Sorry. Anyway, my point was, somewhere along the way I grew up and I started meeting other grown-ups. Dating them. And I noticed how many people there were who just sort of wandered through life aimlessly. No passion. No desire. No dream. Just, whatever. Sure, most of them want to do well, make money, but you can’t live your fucking life like that. Well, maybe you can. But why the fuck would you want to? And why the fuck would I want to be with someone so disconnected from their heart? Their spirit?”
Hudson stares at me intently. He doesn’t say anything. Almost instantly, I begin replaying my own little rant in my mind, hoping against all hope that I said such insightful shit, he's still letting it all sink in. Just as I'm coming to the end of it and starting to panic because it's really all just a long-winded babble about nothing Hallmark hasn’t already put into a card about fifty-thousand times in fifty-thousand different ways, he sets down his mug and stands up from his seat.
“Could I take your picture?”
What? “Right now?” As often as I’ve had my picture taken in recent years, I still sort of require some time to pep myself up for the whole ordeal. I kinda hate it. Pictures are a lot like mirrors, and I hate the shit out of those.
“Yeah. Right now.” He gestures with his hand for me to get up. Confused, but annoyingly desperate to make him happy, I do.
“I don’t really...feel all that comfortable in front of a camera.”
“Just pretend you’re up on stage again and I’m but one of a million fans standing out in the crowd wishing I could have you all to myself.” Hudson winks and reaches his hand around my waist, placing it on my lower back and leading me toward the stairs up to his apartment.
“You kind of did tonight.” The words more or less fall over my foot and out of my mouth.
Hudson stops, his hand dropping from where he rested it on my back. “What do you mean? ”
I close my eyes momentarily, trying to will time to turn back or the earth to open up and put me out of my misery, whichever is faster. When neither come about in a reasonable amount of time, I lift my lids and do my best to explain.
“You said to pretend you’re one of a million fans standing out in the crowd wishing you could have me all to yourself. And tonight, you sort of did. When I was playing, just...I played differently...because of you, because of how you make me feel.” Fuck. I'm taking a bad situation and making it worse with every stupid word I throw out there. It takes everything I have to just keep my mouth shut and let the already tossed chips fall where they may.
“I bet you say that to all the guys you make coffee for,” he teases and I'm half relieved, half disappointed he doesn’t take my accidental confession more seriously.
“Not exactly. Blaise and Derek aren’t really into hearing that sort of thing from me.”
Hudson grins. “What about Angel?”
“Doesn’t drink coffee. Not healthy enough for him.” The awkwardness melts away and his hand returns to my back, encouraging me to start walking toward his apartment again. We're halfway up the stairs when I realize he isn’t the only one who could be a potential victim to someone’s charms here.
“These pictures you want to take of me? Are they naked pics? Am I about to be seduced here?”
His hand reaches past me to open the door and let me in. “Only if you want to be.”
Shockingly, I'm not really sure what my answer is. I mean, I’d happily be seduced by him, but if his intentions are to nail me and leave me, well, I can think of less uncomfortable ways to spend a tour than to have a one-night stand follow me around with a camera.
Right around then, it occurs to me that he might not actually expect me to answer that proposal with a real response, so I bypass giving one by searching his apartment for something new and random to comment on.
“So, big movie buff?” I nod toward the case of DVDs on the back wall.
He shrugs. “Sort of. I’m less attached to the actual movies and more into the cinematography. So, you know, don’t judge me based on some of those titles.” He laughs and it's contagious, as is the ease with which he carries himself, and I feel myself relaxing again. Then I feel his fingers twine with mine as he takes my hand and I go back to being tense as a motherfucker in an instant.
“Come on.” His camera over his shoulder already, he tugs me toward a door I haven’t seen before, just off the kitchen. “I’m feeling inspired and the roof will work perfectly.” He turns to look at me. Apparently, I'm making a face that suggests I’m less than thrilled with the prospect. “What’s wrong? You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”
“No.” But I'm becoming increasingly afraid of him and how willing I am to follow wherever he goes.
HUDSON
We step out onto the roof, my hand still holding Royce’s, and I'm giving myself a big mental pat on the back for having the balls to make that move. He's an interesting contradiction of sorts. One minute he's openly admitting he's attracted to me and the next he seems tense and nervous just at the mere mention of us hooking up.
Clearly, Royce has been with other men in the past. All things considered, the list is probably longer than most, so it seems strange to think that he’s anxious at the thought of sex, period.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” He’s standing near the edge, the moonlight shining down on him perfectly, like the whole fucking universe understands that he's destined to stand under a spotlight.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing right now. And keep talking to me. In fact, if you could somehow forget that the camera is even here, that would be ideal.” I fight back a laugh. Even I know how ridiculous the request is. Given the smirk and slight roll of his eyes, Royce agrees.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll just totally space that little detail. It’s like I can’t even see it anymore. Nope, wait, there it is still blocking your face. Which is unfortunate, really. It’s a nice-looking face.”
He smiles, and my finger is permanently glued to the shutter release, taking one gorgeous shot after the next. The light is amazing. His mannerisms are beautifully un-posed and he...well he, is total perfection.
“You know,” he starts slowly, “I can’t help but think about how you mentioned all the things you see from behind that camera. Flaws and what not.”
“Feeling naked?” I wink, remembering how he asked about having to get bare for this photoshoot.
“So much so, I actually kind of would have preferred just taking my clothes off. ”
I’m about to respond with something that's bound to be both incredibly witty as well as flirtatious when I hear the sound of a car door being slammed coming from down below. Temporarily moving the camera so I can see where I'm going, I come up beside Royce and glance down the side of the building. Down in the small alley, parked directly behind my car is my mother’s rusty red Cadillac Seville.
“Who’s that?” Royce checks his phone. “You expecting company at five o’clock in the morning? Do I need to shimmy down a drainpipe or something?”
I don’t know which is funnier, the image of Royce sliding down the side of my building or the fact that he thinks my mother is a booty call.
“Not necessary. It’s just my mom.”
His brows shoot up in disbelief. “Your mom?”
I turn and head back toward the door. “Yeah. She gets into these crazy moods where she holes up in her studio for days on end, working on things, then when she finally comes out she has no concept of what time it is anymore. Probably thinks it’s just after dinner or something. Watch. I’m going to go down there, and she’ll ask me why we’re closed already.”
Royce chuckles. “So, I’ll just wait up here for you then?”
I nod. “That’d probably be safest, yeah.”
I rush down both flights of stairs and arrive at the bottom and inside the store just in time to find my mother struggling to get a massive new vase up onto one of the display tables.
“Hey, baby. Come give me a hand, would you?”
I already have a grip on the thing and move it gently into place .
“I really wish you wouldn’t try to do stuff like this on your own. You could have demolished half the store trying to balance that thing. It’s almost as big as you!” There isn’t really a point to my little speech. She’s heard it all before and ignores me every time.
“Don’t be so dramatic. Meanwhile, why is the store closed? Slow business tonight?” She glances around the abandoned shop.
“Ma, its five o’clock in the morning.”
She appears frighteningly shocked considering she's facing a wall displaying custom clocks at this very moment. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope.” I slide my hands into my pockets, rolling back and forth from my toes to my heels, just passing the time until my mother decides to leave again and go home to bed, so I can run back up to spend whatever I have left of the night with Royce before he has to take off as well.
Apparently, drawing attention to the fact I even have pockets is a bad move on my part though.
“Kieran, honey, why are you fully clothed at this unearthly time of morning?” She squints at me suspiciously.
“Same reason you are. Busy working.”
She doesn’t buy it. “Who with?”
“What do you mean, who with?”
She points over at the sofa and table where Royce and I were sitting earlier.
“Coffee cups. There’s two of them. Who’s here with you? And don’t you lie to your mother a second time.”
I sigh. “If I tell you, do you promise to leave again without saying another word? ”
She contemplates it for a moment. “Alright.”
“Royce Lemmi.”
An audible gasp escapes her lips as she clutches her chest dramatically. My mother, the artist, has a flare for, well, everything, but she’s also a woman of her word. So, she gives me a kiss on the cheek, spins around on her heel and marches straight out the door without so much as a peep.
I barely wait for the sound of her engine starting before I race back up those stairs and to the man of my fucking dreams, who just happens to be waiting for me at the top of them.